


Looking To See

by HildyJ



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 20:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4891543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HildyJ/pseuds/HildyJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Thorin wants is his glasses repaired and something to eat. That's all he wants. Is that so hard?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking To See

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Coww (croixsouillees)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/croixsouillees/gifts).



> This fic was prompted by [Coww](http://shamingcows.tumblr.com/) who gave me two elements: Glasses and 'I didn't know you were this __'. 
> 
> I hope they're satisfied with the result!

The frames were Thorin’s favourite and the most comfortable pair he had worn in all his time of needing spectacles. They didn’t squeeze the bridge of his nose or frame his eyes and brows in a way to make him look like an owl. They were comfortable and nice-looking without being too stylish. And after spending his youth either looking like a gawky John Lennon with his round wire frames or trying and failing to look cool with his aviator shades, just like in _Top Gun_ , Thorin wasn’t taking any more chances on trying out new styles. He was sticking to what worked.

But staring at a computer screen at work all day wasn’t exactly doing wonders for his short-sightedness, forcing to him to need a stronger pair of lenses every couple of years or so.

Walking down the High Street, Thorin passed by several of the larger opticians with their package offers, two-for-one deals and pictures of blandly smiling models showing off the newest “fashion frames” in the windows. What Thorin wanted to buy didn’t fit into their business model.

Instead, he walked down a back alley, wrinkling his nose at the faint smell of piss still left over from Saturday night’s revellers, when teenagers on their first binge joined forces with the local homeless. 

Thorin stopped at a black door which desperately needed a new coat of paint – it had needed it for more than five years now.

He leaned his head back and shouted up at an open window on the third floor. ‘Dotty!’ Then he took a step back.

There was no answer for a while until a small, metal object was thrown out of the window, plummeting towards the cobblestones until the pink cord tied to it finally stretched out and the key swung between Thorin and the door. It could just about reach the lock and once Thorin had the door open, he let go of the key, shouted, ‘I’m in!’, and jogged up the stairs to Dotty’s flat.

She had just finished pulling up the key when he came through the door, leaving it in a pile on the windowsill 

‘Hello,’ he said, sidestepping a pile of books on the floor.

‘Yes, I have your lenses ready,’ she answered with a flick of the hand. ‘Just sit down and wait.’ She walked out of the room, and he could hear the sound of a kettle being filled.

Thorin looked around the small flat. Sit down where? Every inch of space was either covered in books, glass-cutting tools or cat hair. 

‘Um…’ Thorin edged around a precariously placed table lamp. ‘How long do you think you’ll be?’

‘Oh, no more than 30 to 45 minutes, I should think,’ she called out, the jangling of her many necklaces coming closer as she walked back out to Thorin.

He frowned. He thought he could get this done on his lunch break and pick up something to eat as well. Apparently not. ‘Couldn’t you do it quicker?’

She crossed her arms. ‘Well, I have to remove your old lenses, clean out the frames, sand down the news ones to fit, glue them in and allow them to settle. You’re lucky I’m not demanding an hour of your time,’ she finished with a challenging lift of an eyebrow. ‘And if you’re not happy you can always go elsewhere.’

Thorin shifted. They both knew that he couldn’t. No one else but Dotty was interested in fitting in new lenses without selling him new frames as well.

His stomach grumbled, forcing Thorin to make his decision. ‘Can I leave the frames with you? While I quickly go and get something to eat?’

‘Suits me fine,’ she said. ‘I’ll probably work quicker without you hovering behind me. But will you be alright walking around without your spectacles?’

‘Oh, it’ll be fine,’ Thorin said, pulling them off his face and handing them to her.

‘Right…’ She gave him a doubtful look as she turned them in her hands to check the thickness of the lenses. ‘Just don’t try crossing the street. I’d hate to lose one of my regulars.’

‘It’ll be fine,’ Thorin said, turning towards the door and almost immediately knocking over a pile of books with one of his feet. ‘Oh, sorry!’ He crouched down, trying to contain the mess.

‘Just leave it,’ she sighed.

He stood up, his hand feeling to find the door handle. ’45 minutes?’ he asked.

She nodded, and her ‘Good luck!’ was the last thing he heard before letting the door shut behind him.

 

X—X

 

Thankfully, the brick wall was red, giving Thorin a definite colour to focus on amidst all the smaller blurry ones as he made his way back to the High Street. There, he almost ran into what looked like a mother pushing a pram. Or it could have been a father. Their hair was long, anyhow. 

Muttering a quick apology, Thorin stepped back against the wall, trying to stay out of the way of the busy lunch time crowd while he oriented himself. Dotty’s flat wasn’t in the part of town where he usually bought his lunch. And he always bought his lunch. He hadn’t the time to pack a lunch every day even though he knew it was the cheaper option. 

He squinted. On an average day, he was usually annoyed by the gaudy signs littering the streets with their huge writing on bright backgrounds. But now they blended together. In front of him was a white blur on a blue background, to the left some sort of unclear artistic logo on a yellow background and to the right a shop with no sign, just decorated in pale greens and browns. And no sign of food being served anywhere.

As he pondered what to do, three short figures came out from the shop on the right, each of them clutching something small in the same green and brown colours. They passed him by, chatting and turning the things in their hands. Thorin could hear the sound of greaseproof paper and the smell of something cooked hit his nose. 

His eyes widened. They had food.

‘Excuse me.’ He stepped forward, putting on his friendliest smile. He knew that his height, his beard, and his deep voice combined were enough to intimidate even the most relaxed person.

The figures stopped. ‘Yeah?’ one of them said.

When he got closer, he was able to make out that it was three teenage boys, probably skipping the school dinner for something tastier. Or at least, he hoped it was tastier. Though he didn’t exactly put a lot of stock in the taste buds of teenagers. They were probably happy as long as it was greasy and salty. Well, Thorin’s stomach would take anything right about now.

He tried to focus his eyes on the dark-haired one who had spoken to him, hoping he didn’t look too much like Mr. Magoo. 

‘I don’t know my way around this part of town,’ he said, ‘and I was trying to find a place to stop for lunch. Do you know any?’

As one, the boys all looked down at the paper-enfolded things in their hands. ‘My uncle’s sandwich shop is right here,’ the dark-haired one said, pointing to the right. ‘We come here almost every day.’

‘But that’s mostly because he gives us a discount,’ one of the brown-haired ones quickly interjected.

‘Yeah, but they’re still good sandwiches,’ the other one said.

Thorin nodded. ‘I’ll check it out. Thanks a lot.’ He watched the boys walk away until they were just blurs again.

He checked the time on his phone as he pushed through the door to the green and brown shop, listening to a bell ringing. It was fairly small, a handful of tables, a counter for the eat-and-runners and a long line of customers in work clothes, waiting for their lunch to be bagged up to take back to the office.

A harried-looking couple came in just behind him, pressing him forward and into joining the queue. He settled into waiting, scanning the walls for any sign of a menu. A large picture of something green and purple was on the right. Maybe a nature scene? But no menu.

At the front of the queue what looked to be a blonde ponytail swished as its owner craned their neck to look at a black thing above the till before giving their order. Thorin squinted. Was that the menu? As the queue moved forward, he could make out some white squiggles on it. A chalkboard? With writing on it? Well, how are you expected to read that at this distance?

With every step forward, he squinted, trying to make out any familiar words. His stomach was so loud now that he didn’t care what he put in it, just as long as it happened within the next 5 minutes. Finally, he gave up on deciphering the spindly handwriting and resigned himself to just ordering whatever the person in front of him was having.

He held his breath as the grey-haired man in front of him stepped forward to the counter and…

‘A cup of tea, please? Milk, no sugar.’

Thorin almost let loose a growl of frustration. Who went to a sandwich shop to drink tea in the middle of the lunch rush hour? Right. Time to take a chance.

The round figure behind the counter smiled friendly at Thorin. ‘Yes?’ The voice had the brittle and changing quality of a teenager.

‘A club sandwich, please,’ Thorin said with more confidence than he felt.

The teen shifted slightly. It was obvious that Thorin had disrupted the usual flow of employee-customer-conversation. ‘That’s not on the menu today, I’m afraid.’

Thorin pressed his lips together. ‘Well, what’s on the menu?’

‘It’s on the chalkboard,’ the teen said, lamely pointing at the indecipherable mess above him.

Looking up, Thorin squinted again but the only thing that made any sense was the larger printed _Today’s Sandwiches_ but that didn’t help him at all.

Someone sighed loudly behind him. He squinted harder. An irritated murmur sounded from somewhere further down the queue. Thorin could feel his shoulders tensing.

He looked back down. ‘Look, couldn’t you just--’

‘Is anything wrong, Sir?’

A new shape had appeared next to the teenager. It was small with a white shirt and golden-brown hair.

‘Yes,’ Thorin said, ‘I’m trying to order a sandwich but it’s impossible.’ He sidestepped a person who had stood up from the counter, leaving behind an empty place and scrunched up paper napkins. Golden-brown was quick to scoop these up and wipe something over the counter. 

‘Why don’t you sit down here while you consider your sandwich choice,’ he said, ‘and then we can get the queue moving again?’ The voice was polite, but Thorin could hear the steel in the velvet glove. Or was he mixing his metaphors?

Thorin sat down, staring numbly at the constant stream of people moving quickly past the till, some of them glancing at him as they went. Golden-brown had disappeared behind the counter but he could make out glimpses of that hair as he handed off a multitude of wrapped sandwiches to the chubby teen at the till. And Thorin was still no nearer to getting his own lunch. He fished out his phone, holding it close to his face as he checked the time. 30 minutes left of his lunch break. 

‘So, have you decided?’

Thorin looked up, blinking owlishly at the shape with the golden-brown hair. He glanced over at the till, seeing that the queue had been reduced to a final couple of stragglers.

‘Well,’ he said to Golden-brown, ‘it’s a bit difficult to choose when you insist on doing your menu in chalky handwriting on a board hanging near the ceiling.’

Golden-brown looked up. ‘It’s not near the ceiling. It’s closer to us than the ceiling, as a matter of fact. I should know: I have to take it down each morning and write today’s menu on it.’ He glanced down at Thorin’s phone which he still clutched in his hand. ‘But I can see why you would find it difficult.’ He paused, twisting something between his hands. ‘Do you have any allergies or anything you can’t eat for whatever reason?’

Thorin frowned. ‘What? No.’

‘Do you trust me?’

‘I barely know you.’

‘Yeah, but do you trust me?’

‘Sure,’ Thorin said slowly, shrugging at this weird, little man. ‘Whatever.’

‘Then I’ll get your sandwich for you.’ And he turned away from the counter, disappearing into the kitchen in the back.

Thorin sat straighter on his stool. Well, at least he was getting something to eat. Even though it was probably whatever food was leftover from the lunch time rush. He checked his phone again. 25 minutes.

‘Here we are.’ Golden-brown put down a plate in front of Thorin, a plate in front of himself, a pile of paper napkins between them, and pulled up a stool to sit on the other side of the counter. ‘It’s my lunch break and I like company when I eat. Do you mind?’ The white of his teeth appeared in a smile.

This was the closest he had been to Golden-brown, and he could just about make out the colour of his eyes in the blur of his face. They were dark blue. 

Thorin shook his head. ‘I don’t mind.’

He picked up his sandwich, bringing it close to his face to examine it. It was wholemeal bread with some leafy greens at the bottom. On top of that was what looked to be a yellowish hummus and then soft, reddish-brown slivers of onion.

He took a bite. The crunchy texture of the greens was nice contrast to the smooth hummus and the soft onions. And it was spicy, deliciously so.

‘Good?’ Golden-brown asked.

Thorin chewed and swallowed. ‘Yes. Very good.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. It’s going on the menu tomorrow for the first time.’ He pointed up at the chalkboard. ‘Maybe I’ll add your review as a special recommendation.’ He swiped one hand in front of him. ‘ _Very good_ , says bearded, handsome man,’ he finished with a smile in his voice.

Instinctively, Thorin ducked his head down, focusing on the sandwich in his hands. The compliment had been unexpected but not unwelcome. ‘Er…’ He cleared his throat, trying to think of something to say. ‘Do you change the menu every day then?’

Golden-brown swallowed his mouthful. ‘Once or twice a fortnight. It depends on what produce is available at the time. We like to follow the seasons, and we only ever have about a handful of different types of sandwiches on the menu at once. Saves cost and time when we don’t have to be fully stocked and ready to make twenty kinds of sandwiches all year round. Less waste of food, as well.’

‘The owner is lucky to have such a passionate employee to speak his case. Some people would be disappointed to step into a sandwich shop and see that they only had a handful of options. I guess you’ve given that spiel a lot by now?’

‘Well, since I _am_ the owner, it’s no wonder I’m passionate about my own ideas.’ The white smile appeared again.

‘Oh…’ Thorin swallowed a half-chewed piece of onion, feeling it tickle his throat on the way down. ‘I didn’t mean- That is- Uh… I met your nephew!’

Golden-brown leaned over the counter, a soft nose coming into focus for Thorin. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, just outside.’ Thorin was talking a bit quickly now. ‘He was the one who told me to come in here for lunch.’

‘Oh?’ Golden-brown’s voice was very close now and very warm. ‘I must thank him for that. I would never have met you, otherwise.’

Thorin’s cheeks heated. He was definitely being flirted with. And if this had been any other day, he probably would have flirted back. But he felt at a real disadvantage, only being able to see everything as colourful blurs. He couldn’t get a proper read on Golden-brown to respond in kind.

‘And I’m sorry about earlier, by the way,’ Golden-brown said, ‘if you had come at any other time, on any other day, it would have gone better. It’s just- It was Sam’s first day-’

‘Sam?’ Thorin interrupted.

‘The boy at the till – and it was the lunch hour, where we make most of our money and can’t really afford to lose any customers because of a slow-moving queue, and then you come in with your…’ He waved his hand in front of his own face.

‘My what?’

‘With your vision problem; and you know, maybe you’re right, maybe we should get some other way of displaying the menu--’

‘No, no. It’s fine. I mean, it’s not a problem. I’m just very short-sighted and my specs are off being repaired.’ Thorin suddenly remembered the time and checked his phone again. 10 minutes. Damn.

‘I have to go.’ He stuffed the last bite of the sandwich into his mouth and gathered up his things from the counter. ‘My lunch break is almost over. And I- I have to go.’

‘Oh. Right.’ Golden-brown leaned away from the counter, pushing his plate with his half-eaten sandwich away from him. 

‘What do I owe you for the sandwich?’ Thorin said, fumbling for his wallet.

‘Nothing.’ Golden-brown became more blurry as he slipped down from his stool and stepped away. ‘You already paid me by being my taste tester.’

‘Are you sure?’ Thorin was already going towards the door.

‘Absolutely.’

The bell rung again as Thorin hurried out the door.

 

X—X

 

‘First, you give me grief about the 45 minutes and then you’re five minutes late yourself!’

‘Yes, thank you, Dotty!’ Thorin sighed in relief as he put on the spectacles and the world was right again. He could feel his brow relaxing and a tension leaving his temples. Thank God for optometry. 

After paying her, he again hurried down the stairs, almost running down the last street before he reached his office a couple of minutes late.

Slumping down into his chair and booting up his computer, Thorin finally allowed himself to breathe normally again. He went to grab his phone from his pocket, needing it on the desk in front of him as a countdown until he was free to leave. His hand found the phone but it also felt the odd touch of some paper. Pulling it all out, Thorin realised that he must have grabbed a paper napkin from the sandwich place alongside his phone.

He leaned back in his chair, ignoring the white light coming from his computer screen, and spread out the napkin in front of him. It had the same green and brown colours as the sandwich shop with its title running across it.

‘ _Bilbo’s_ ,’ Thorin murmured. His name was Bilbo; the golden-brown blur with the deep blue eyes who had flirted with him and given him a free sandwich. Bilbo. Thorin leaned back in his chair and licked his lips. He could still taste the spiciness.

He folded up the napkin, putting it next to his phone. He checked the time again. 4 hours to go.

 

X—X

 

The shop was empty when Thorin pushed open the door, listening to the bell ring for the third time that day. The chairs were stacked up on the tables and the floor still glistened from a recent washing.

‘Sorry, we’re closed!’ A familiar voice sounded from behind the counter before golden-brown curls popped up, adjusting the strap of a messenger bag over his shoulder.

Thorin took one step forward. ‘Bilbo?’

‘Yes?’ Bilbo looked up. ‘Ah, it’s my taste tester! I didn’t think I’d see you again.’ He smiled as he came around counter.

Thorin stilled. Now that Bilbo was in front of him in crisp, clear, Technicolor focus, he couldn’t help but notice that he was very good-looking, indeed. His hair was tousled with slightly curling tips, his eyes shone with his smile, the lines around them emphasising the mirth in his face. He was shorter than Thorin with a pleasingly soft and compact body. And he was looking up at him now, waiting for Thorin to say something.

‘Er… Yes, I was just walking by on my way home from work, and I thought I’d pop in and thank you again for my free lunch,’ Thorin said, deliberately not thinking of the bus he’d missed so he could walk in the opposite direction from his flat.

‘There’s really no need,’ Bilbo said, reaching behind the counter to shut of the rest of the light in the shop, ‘I was happy to help.’ He gestured at Thorin’s face. ‘I can see you’ve got your specs back?’

‘Yeah.’

‘That’s good. I mean, they look good on you.’ Bilbo shifted slightly. ‘I mean, I knew you were handsome but I didn’t know you were this handsome.’ He looked away as soon as he had said it, grimacing slightly.

They stood for a moment in the darkness of the shop; the only sound was that of an industrial fridge gurgling in the kitchen behind them.

‘I wanted to…’ Thorin started, not knowing how to finish.

Bilbo’s eyes swung back at him. ‘Yes?’

‘I wanted to…know the ingredients of the sandwich I had. I might want to order it when I come back for lunch tomorrow.’ 

Bilbo smiled wider. ‘Tomorrow?'

‘If that’s okay?’

‘No, that’s okay. _More_ than okay. Just ask for the spinach, hummus and Tandoori onion sandwich. But don’t expect another freebie,’ Bilbo said with a grin.

Thorin smiled. ‘I won’t.’

Bilbo glanced up at the clock above the door. ‘I have to get going,’ he said with an air of regret, ‘if I want to catch my bus.’

Thorin nodded and stepped outside with Bilbo, watching the back of his head as he locked up.

‘I think,’ Thorin suddenly said as Bilbo turned around, ‘I think I’m on the same bus as you.’

‘Really?’ A puzzled smile. ‘How do you know?’

‘I don’t.’ Thorin couldn’t stop smiling as he looked at Bilbo. ‘I’m just really sure that I’m supposed to take that bus with you.’ 

Even if it takes me to the other side of town, he mentally added.

Bilbo ducked his head, chuckling quietly. ‘I really thought I’d scared you off today, thought I’d been coming on too strong.’

‘You didn’t. I just didn’t have my specs, so I couldn’t see it.’ Thorin stepped closer. ‘But now I do.’

Bilbo nodded and hopped down the step from the door, not stopping until he slightly stepped into Thorin’s personal space. Thorin could feel the warmth of his body before he leaned back again, smiling up at Thorin.

‘Ready?’ Bilbo asked.

Thorin smiled. ‘Lead the way.’

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](http://hildyj.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Café com Leite](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5393246) by [rutobuka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rutobuka/pseuds/rutobuka)




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